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{Tuesday}

 
WHERE THE MOUNTAIN GOATS JUMP | improv |

Bugs would be good fun in bed, he said, don’t you think?
That made her laugh and they were friends then. He’d made her laugh one big balloon laugh and that meant they were friends.
Her birthday he gave her a gift of the bluest bowl she thought she’d ever see (he had to have stolen it, no way could he afford something like that) and in the deep ocean of the bowl he’d scattered it seemed like a million different plus different coloured dice.

Dice was a word she liked because it had the same name many as it did one alone all by itself. (And there was no harm whatsoever thinking this, not knowing she was in fact wrong, because her wrong to her was right and made her think more about words than the kinda smug people who would have sniffily corrected her on the matter.)

The same going as coming back again, she said, putting inky hand over a mouth already turning to grin, and then it was his turn to laugh, so he laughed, and in her heart she thought: we’re going to get married some Saturday afternoon all Tesco pink champagne giggles and Urban Decay bitten fingernails contrasting with the fly away fly net dress.
And she started to laugh because she was trying to think of a marriage, but not two people not
a vicar and two people and two rings, but two laughs getting married. What would a laugh look like? It would be like a balloon filled with chocolate milk dropped from the top of a multi storey car park. The two laughs hold crazy putty hands now and when they come in they are separate and solemn and sober (if hungover), and when they walk back down the aisle they are together, one but two, two gathered into a kind of one, smile now, smile, the kind of smile that might make you hiccup out little tears, but the good kind not the bad kind, cut the crust off tears not paper cut tears, o Mister and Missus Laughter, do you take this joke to be your unlawful weed-head skive, and when they leave the church they’re the same but different, not the same going as when they came in, not the same at all and THAT IS GOOD.

On the family TV a voice saying: "a catclysm of fear... inquisition ... torture and fear."

History inside a tear but not of laughter. Paste jewels and open toilets. Babies with bayonets for heads. History inside the head of a heretic or a priest taking confession from a divorced laugh, tears running down her ashy dress.

Mr TV?
"While the lovers entwine a day of hell descends on the village of M. ..."

She was not a hypocrite.

She wanted them to stay together because not too many people stayed married these days it seemed, her friend Zoey’s Mums kept this cake hidden in the back of one of her kitchen cupboards, all wrapped up in old dinosaur foil, but that wasn’t the saddest thing, the saddest thing was now there was one just one bit missing, one slice gaping, and when Zo looked at the cake, when she showed it to her and said Look at this, my mums is SUCH a saddo head case, that was even sadder than the cake. Zo wanted to take it and throw it in the canal but Onny told her no and she agreed too quickly so that O knew she’d never really wanted to throw it in the rusty water, it was just one of those moments when you need to say the thing that you think … whatever. Zoey missed her dad and was frosty with her mums and she put all the blame on her mums. When O asked her for “da troof the ho’ troof " it made Zo laugh, but it was also obvious she didn’t really know what the whole story was; or, she knew most of what had happened, but not why.
The perennial reply: when you’re older you’ll understand.

The number of times she’d been told that and mostly it seemed 9 out of 10 about bad stuff.
Understand what? Bayonets and hoof beats? But - and then?
Zo had this idea that there’d be a day in the future, like judgement day, when all this ECK stuff would finally be HECKSPLANE … and all our heads would, what?, be like a fly's head hit with a rolled up newspaper but instead our hearts squashed with a rolled up thing of all our days gone by. On Eastenders and Neighbours whole lives roll by in a day or two. People are a drug addict commiting suicide on Monday and they're well again on Tuesday. Bayonets made of sausage. A bomb hatch opens and out drop 100s of fly swatters. A big grey fly's eye. Crazy putty monsters. Thousand year old wedding cake. RAPunzel, RAPunzel...

And now Zo's mums did this mad shit every morning where she did what did she call it she "CHAN TED" and from the other room her and Zo stifled their laffs till they cried out their noses because she sounded like a bagwoman or the racing commentary old Greek and West Indian men listened to from three rooms away but it didn't seem to take Zo's mum's spitty sweary goblin aaangry face away when she'd had a can of cider or two too many of a night, she didn't chant then like the sound the canal makes under the graffit'd bridge, she just talked about Zo's ex dad and all the cunts he was and all the cunts he had and all the cunting hell he could go to.

Somehow Zo's Mums and her mad chan...ting got mixed up one morning with a silly advert on Mister TV where a cartoon character says "READ MY BUM" and Zo and her thought they'd DIE from laughing each time it got funnier and funnier, cos they started to chant it instead themselves: readmybumreadmybumreadmybum
readmybumread...

When she had a cider or lager or bluebottle too many anyone she likes she wants to hug.
That’s all: just hug.
Is that so bad?
Her special shrink said something about “boundaries” she sort of got but didn’t really or completely.
Sometimes in one of the sunbeam days it was like everything was new and the weirdest thing could set her off in a fit of hthe read-my-bum giggles. The last one she could remember was someone - she and Zo were at the bus stop near the gym and this old man and woman probably married for like a THOUSAND years, she turned to him (she had a wart with hair coming out near her top lip) and she says “Oh you - you really know how to get my goat!” all proper angry and she and Zo were off.
“I’ll get me goat…”

Mister TV whispering: The village priest is seeing all the little girls in the village. (A blush spreads across her face like a heavy blanket over eidelweiss.) The priest takes her virginity. 98 cases of heresy: case by case, house by house, soul by soul, he will tear apart the hidden web. Heretical ideas about sex about God about confession.

Some of them lived on mountains and one was called the Pyrenees and she loved the name of this one flower, there where the mountain goats jump. But goats were lovely to start with: the expression on their sweet little grand dad faces. Sweet, right, but goats were tha bomb because how they’d just take it into their sweet little kids book heads to BUTT yer bum just like that! Get out my GOAT place! This is GOAT space, geezer! One minute just choo choo choo their grass like a fat slag's bum cheeks in 2 tight jeans and then BOSH no warning BOSH. She'd seen it happen on a school trip to Jeremy Zizzle the mongy kid whose jumper always smelled of old cooking fat. No Fronting It with goats. They hid their next move. She didn't like the waste of every one's time that was fronting. Do it or don't, you know? Most rappers she thought a big big PAIN she didn’t like because they were ALL FRONT and nothing else. They were like 10 year old boys making believe. She hated their "tough" faces they squinted at the cameras. Why'd they have to act so pretend mean? Bad. But some rappers she liked, when they dropped the eff-with-you mask sometimes with certain songs certain rappers it was like they were getting near to the Secret Song she carried in her head behind her eyes. Every now and then someone who brought the SUN back in again and made words feel like putty or floss, like when you were still a kid you’d sometimes get that whirlpool thing where it would suddenly seem silly to you WHY was THIS thing given THIS particular name?
Why does this hard wooden thing sitting there got anything to do with chair - chair ... chair ... chair chair chair ...
C H A I R?
What in earth did THAT have to do with ...bluddy-duh-bluh-buh.
Uh?
"Kill them All - and let God decide," said Mister TV.



posted by Ian 1/31/2006 05:43:00 PM

Comments:
Bit sad that this great post passed without comment. I liked it a lot. That's what I wanted to say.
 
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